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He nodded, wondering if she knew more than he did at this point. Was it possible she’d already found the disk?
“We knew Freddy had a cop in his pocket,” he continued, watching her face for any sign that she was way ahead of him. “My job was to find the dirty cop.” He touched his tongue to his lower lip, eyes darkening. Her expression hadn’t changed. “I had several leads on cops who Freddy was paying off to look the other way, but they were small potatoes. The guy I was looking for would have to be close to Freddy. Real close. As it turns out, real close to me, as well.”
“You’re telling me Zeke was the dirty cop.” She didn’t sound like she believed it for a minute. “But you said he came into the organization undercover after you.”
He smiled. The woman was sharp. And she’d been paying attention. “Yeah, so now you understand why I was blindsided. I never suspected Zeke. Why would I?”
Her hair was wet. It curled around her lightly freckled face. Her eyes were wide and blue. She couldn’t have looked more adorable—even with the straight blond hair she’d had the night he met her. It hit him that under other circumstances, he really would have asked her out that night after the art show. She had that much of an impact on him.
“Give me one good reason to believe anything you’re telling me is the truth,” she said, those big blues narrowing.
He studied her for a moment, then lifted his shirt to show her the wound in his side. “When Zeke walked up to the car that night, I didn’t see the gun in his hand until it was almost too late.”
She flinched at the sight of his wound. “How do I know you didn’t get shot when you attacked the safe house where the police were keeping me?”
He raised his hands slowly as if in surrender. “What is it going to take to get through to you? Isn’t it possible I was trying to save you?”
Her gaze said, Not a chance in hell.
* * *
THE GUNSHOT WOUND HAD surprised her. She could see where he’d been shot. The area was red and angry, although clearly starting to heal. Someone had shot him. Was it possible Zeke’s had been one of the shots she’d heard that night?
She thought of Simon Renton, remembering how he’d lied about wanting a painting for his anniversary, a painting his wife had picked out. She’d foolishly opened the door and let him in that night even though every instinct warned her not to.
“What did Simon leave in my studio?” she asked as she realized her only hope was to find out what was going on, what Landry Jones wanted from her.
He seemed to relax a little. “A disk. Simon put it between a painting and the backing.” Landry’s gaze softened. “You saved him and the disk that night.”
“At what cost to my own life since he still died?” she said angrily. “And for what? Some stupid disk?” She shuddered. “Do you think it was worth it for him to be tortured to death? He still told them about the disk and the painting, didn’t he?”
Landry looked away. “Simon knew what was at stake. We were all risking our lives to bring down an organization that steals, kills and pollutes all of our lives.”
She said nothing, not sure what to believe. “What’s on this disk?”
“If I told you that, I would have to kill you.”
She looked at him, narrowing her eyes. “You think that’s funny?”
“Actually, truthful. I’m serious, Willa. That’s why I have to find that disk before Freddy D. and his men do.”
It was the first time he’d called her Willa. She hated that he used her name in that soft tone of his and it had an effect on her.
“Aren’t the police looking for it, too?” she asked, and saw the answer in his expression. “You want to find it before the police do, and you tell me you have nothing to hide?”
“It’s complicated. The bottom line is that the disk is worth killing—or dying—for. You’re going to help me find it. One way or the other.”
“Back to threats? What will you do to me? Try to drown me again? Torture me? Beat me up?”
He groaned. “What do you want?”
“How about the truth? What’s on the disk?”
“Important information about organized crime in southern Florida—names, numbers, enough to shut down these people.”
She waited, staring at him.
He groaned again. “There’s also proof on the disk that I didn’t kill Zeke in cold blood. Proof that it was self-defense because the name of the dirty cop is on that disk. That disk will clear me.”
